


Blood Brothers

by ProdigalEzplorer (Asguardian)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asguardian/pseuds/ProdigalEzplorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darius and Draven grew up on the streets before rising to acclaim in Noxus. This is a few of their memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Brothers

Darius' first memory was actually of his mother, though vaguely. He could recall her black hair and the strange lilt her voice had, but other than that, he could remember nothing else of her. Far more intense in the memory was the small bundle in her arms, a sleeping baby she called, “Draven.” Even as a child, he felt an intense protective instinct towards him.

 

His second memory was around age five, when their mother died. Not that he really remembered how she died or why, just that she was gone. Draven was three and at his side, the tears on his face finally dry. Darius wished he could remember what he said that made Draven's eyes go from their sad confusion to a smile.

 

Draven's first memory was of Darius getting the shit kicked out of him for stealing. He was maybe four, Darius six. The thing was, Darius stole all the time, so Draven didn't understand at the time what had changed to get this result. He stood in the alley and watched, aware of Darius' rule to never interfere, regardless of what he saw. It made his blood boil. In the future, he would recognize this as his blood-lust.

 

The first time Darius killed someone didn't really effect him that much. He remembered the man's scream, and the power he felt rushing through his veins as snapped his neck. Darius had done it when he figured out who had beaten Draven for stealing the day prior. Draven had a broken arm and a broken nose; Darius repaid the man his cruelty. However, there was no reason to tell Draven about killing this man. He brought extra food to their hide-away that night and Draven smiled in a way that almost made it seem like he knew the truth. Darius was ten, Draven eight.

 

Both Draven and Darius could remember when Draven first killed someone. Namely because he killed two boys roughly their age and brutally at that. Draven remembered the kids showing up to their hideout, demanding money in exchange for protection. He couldn't remember what he had actually said to this threat but he did remember laughing in their faces. When the first boy grabbed his shirt, Draven grabbed him by the wrists and head-slammed him. Then he proceeded to kick him swiftly in the balls as he hit the ground. The other two kids attacked him at the same time; Draven dropped to the floor, letting them run into each other. Draven was fast, so he was up and behind the one to his right, clawing his face before getting a strong enough grip on his head to break his neck. The noise was fantastic to Draven; such a loud, definitive crack. He could see the other kid who had charged him, nose bloodied, staring in horror as his dead friend hit the ground with a dull thud. There was nowhere to run as Draven lunged at him, dropping punches into the kids' face until gore met his fists. Draven turned to the third boy as Darius' entered the room.

“Tell your boss what happened here,” Darius said to the boy, Draven stopping suddenly. Draven's eyes were wild and he was shaking in effort to hold himself back. “No one will return the next time you idiots show up.”

The boy ran from their hide-out, a choked sob in his throat. Darius clapped Draven on the shoulder.

“I'm proud of you,” Darius said, before moving to discard the bodies. Draven helped him dump them both into the river that night. It was Draven's birthday the next day; they had cake to celebrate his twelfth birthday.

 

Darius was maybe fifteen when Draven and Darius decided they needed a more steady source of income. There was an underground fighting ring with significant prizes for winning, so the two entered.

“We'll join, but we will never fight against each other,” Darius had said when they signed up.

The man shrugged, “Doable.”

But Draven couldn't stop a barb at Darius' decision, “Why, are you afraid of me, Darius?”

“No,” Draven said. _I'm afraid of myself_ , he thought.

 

After two years, Darius got kicked out, though not on purpose. The brothers never lost a match, so the stakes grew and grew in their fights. Darius had a match against five men, and in his fervor to win, accidentally killed one. It was against the rules, and thus he was not allowed to come back.

Draven responded by killing his next opponent in the ring. He then systematically killed the men who organized the arena. After killing the boss, he returned to the hide-out with red blood in two stripes on his face that would later become his trademark.

“It suits you,” Darius said upon seeing him.

 

At seventeen, Darius met Swain. There was a protest in the square, and he and his brother were just trying to pass through. Some idiot took a swing at Draven when they bumped into one another. Draven smashed his face in without a thought. The crowd turned on the brothers, who simply went back to back and fought back. Swain called it to a stop with a few Noxian soldiers.

The two men stopped the second everyone backed off, Draven glancing around subtly for their exit strategy now that they might get arrested.

“Don't bother running,” Swain began, a smile on his face. “I wouldn't want to accidentally kill you. Besides, I might have an offer for you two.”

Draven found the man irritating immediately, but Darius recognized the way he walked and what he wore. This wasn't just your average run of the mill soldier. This man was a contender.

“Join the military,” Swain said, in a way that wasn't quite a question.

“Not interested,” Draven said, digging a finger into his ear.

Darius tensed in disappointment; he wanted to go with this man. He liked the way he spoke, the way he kept everything bare bones. Noxian military was run like a well-oiled machine and Darius wanted to be a part of it. But Draven was his brother and he wasn't yet sure he liked the idea of them being separated.

Swain looked at Darius and nodded. “Come when you're ready,” He said pointedly to him and took his leave.

 

At eighteen, Darius got his first tattoo. It was a back alley job, but the guy was actually quite talented. Darius' tattoo was all thick lines with sharp edges. Draven whistled under his breath when the artist finished.

“Me, too,” Draven said, rolling his sleeve up and offering his shoulder to the man.

When the man finished the sharp triangles and slanted boxes in thinner lines than Darius' tattoo, Draven tore his sleeves off.

“No one needs to miss this masterpiece.”

Darius had gotten his tattoo for himself, and did not mimic the action.

 

The divide in their personalities became evident as Draven got closer to eighteen. After the third fist fight Draven started in less than a week, Darius became annoyed.

“At least let them throw the first punch.”

“They need to know better than to talk shit about me.”

Draven became more and more thrill seeking, until he finally started his own fight arena, similar to the one they had been in previously. There were no rules against killing though, so Draven often participated, killing people with more and more flair.

Darius saw the money he was bringing in and knew it was time.

“I'm joining the military.”

To say Draven was disappointed was an understatement. “It's a boring choice.”

“Maybe to you. But maybe I can bring you back some Demacians to,” He gestured to the crowd screaming for blood as the men in the ring fought, “Entertain.”

Draven was smiling from ear to ear.

 

The military was where Darius belonged. On his first battlefield, a Demacian tried to take one of his eyes with his sword. Darius took his life.

When the order to fall back was delivered, Darius ignored his captain, rushing forward with a swing of his ax, killing the enemy general. The chaos that ensued turned the battle in Noxus' favor.

Soldiers now followed Darius. He stayed in military campaigns for five years, as his acclaim grew.

 

But back home, things were becoming more and more political. Draven watched in disgust as the rich became richer and the poor became poorer. Draven became aware of the discrepancy in wealth when some kid tried to rob him.

“Don't rob from people who look like they can hurt you, dumbass,” He growled after breaking the kids' nose. Draven pointed at a couple sauntering down the street, covered in jewelry. “Rob from idiots like that.”

It was in that moment though, that Draven saw the street for what it was. There were beggars in every alley and rich snobs waltzing up and down his streets. His blood boiled; he wanted to be able to put people back into their rightful places.

 

Darius was even more disgusted than Draven when he returned home. Seeing the change throughout the capitol sickened him. It was easy enough to find Draven as the fight ring was still in order.

“Aw man, someone cut up your face!” Draven shouted upon seeing him.

“He paid for it by dying,” Darius said with a smile. They hugged brusquely.

They spent the day quietly together, neither saying much until they saw a child get attacked by a Noxian nobleman.

Darius was up with his ax and charging at the man the second he heard the child's scream. He swung his ax with no effort through the man's neck. The child screamed at the blood, but Draven scooped her up and poked her on the nose. She stopped screaming, but shook in his arms.

“Thank my brother,” He ordered.

“Th-thank you,” She said, trembling.

Draven put her on the ground and she ran away.

“I'm going to kill them,” Darius said, eyes focused on the capitol building. “Noxus needs to be wiped clean.”

 

Noxus was in a tizzy over the next decade, believing that Darius was in a bid for power over the country. Especially after he killed so many of the nobility that thought they had a comfortable seat in power. But Darius had never lost sight of Swain and what the man did throughout the years. As soon as the path was clear, he placed the man in power.

Draven became the executioner that same year. He didn't want to be outdone by his brother. Gaining a friend in the weapon creation field, he designed his spinning axes. His inspiration had been the glorious arc of Dariu's blade through that first man's throat. The first set of prisoners of war he was given to execute were from a campaign of Darius'. He made the show of the year out of them. Noxians and the world over spoke of it for months later.

Darius was thirty-five, Draven thirty-three. They had carved out their place in Noxus.


End file.
